


Lunch Hour

by startwithsparks



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Car Sex, M/M, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-20
Updated: 2014-01-20
Packaged: 2018-01-09 10:15:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1144780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/startwithsparks/pseuds/startwithsparks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter has a bad habit of hanging out around the highschool, but this time he takes it one step further...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lunch Hour

Hunched over, Stiles shouldered his way through the crowded hallway, like a fish swimming against the tide. Scott and Isaac were supposed to meet him at the doors to the parking lot, but he was trying to get there first so he didn't have to stand there and wait for them to stop being overly-affectionate. He'd never been one for patience, and it was worse when he felt like the consummate third-wheel. He leaned his weight against the door, squinting slightly as sunlight replaced harsh fluorescent lights.

The air hung a bit heavy, the way it did right before it rained, with the crisp scent of ozone slicing through. Stiles inhaled deep, but all he could smell was that cloying scent of an impending storm. Were he Scott, had he accepted the bite that had once been offered to him, he was sure he could sense every little nuance that lingered in the air around him. He scuffed at the gravel as he waited, rolling the sole of his shoe over a larger rock.

The door behind him clicked open and Stiles quickly sidestepped out of the way, anticipating Scott and Isaac, but watching a small cluster of girls walk through instead. He rubbed at the back of his neck, slowly pivoting back around on his heel, only to be confronted by Peter Hale not two feet away from him.

" _Jesus_ , fuck!" he flailed, staggering back a step. "Would you _not_ do that to me."

Peter just quirked an eyebrow casually and shrugged, the shoulders on his jacket crinkling a bit as he did. "Why?" he asked, "It's funny."

"No," Stiles shook his head. "No, it's not."

Peter rolled his eyes, head tipping to the side. "I take it you weren't waiting for me?"

"Why would I be-" he started, then frowned. "I'm waiting for Scott and Isaac so we can go to lunch."

"Convenient," he drawled. "I was going to offer to take you to lunch myself."

Stiles' face flushed and his face scrunched up as he furtively glanced around. "You can't just _say_ that."

"I just did."

"Someone's going to hear!"

"So?"

Stiles rubbed at his forehead. "You really have no concept of how much trouble I'd get into if anyone found out about this."

"Found out about what?" He heard Isaac say from behind him.

Stiles whirled around the other way and socked Scott in the arm - only because he and Isaac weren't really at the stage in their friendship where they could punch each other and not take offense, which was likely due to the fact that he and Isaac weren't friends _at all_. "I really wish you guys would stop doing that to me."

Isaac grinned, though the expression dimmed slightly as he shifted his gaze to Peter. "What do you want?"

"To borrow Stiles."

Scott furrowed his brows. "Why?"

But Peter offered no more explanation than a shrug as he stepped off the top stair and started back towards where his car was idling in a parking spot out front. "Are you coming?"

Stiles groaned and rolled his eyes dramatically, reeling down the stairs after him. "I'll see you guys in class," he said over his shoulder, his tone a bit defeated.

It wasn't that he didn't want to leave with Peter, or that he wasn't a little bit excited that Peter had shown up for _him_ for a change, it was just that the weight of their clandestine relationship weighed pretty heavy on him. Not only was his father the sheriff - and would be more than happy for a reason to toss Peter in prison and throw away the key - but part of him felt like he was betraying Scott, just a bit, by going behind his back like this. He didn't think that Scott would make a big deal of it, but at the same time he didn't think that he would understand it either. It would be one thing if it was Derek, who was slightly closer to their own age, but Peter seemed to encompass this untouchable sort of _thing_ that made him more than forbidden; it made him a bit dirty as well.

It would probably come as no surprise that it was part of the appeal of being with him. Stiles had pushed the boundaries of teenage rebellion pretty far, but this seemed so far past the proverbial line that it had become something else entirely.

He cringed a bit as Peter opened his door for him, twisting around to see that Scott and Isaac were still watching them carefully, then offered an awkward wave as he slipped into the passenger's seat. Peter was in the other side a little too quickly to be natural, shifting the car into gear and pulling easily out of the space. Stiles waited until they were at least five blocks away before he turned and flailed anxiously at him.

"Oh my _god_ ," he wheezed. "Could you quite possibly _never_ do that again?"

Peter grinned, "I thought it was romantic."

"It was, but-" he rubbed his hand over his face. "I'm going to kill you."

"I believe you already tried, and look where that got us." Peter cast a glance over to Stiles, saw him flushed and wide-eyed, and sighed softly. He reached over and settled his hand on Stiles' thigh. "Alright," he continued, "I will endeavor to be more subtle in the future if that's what you would like me to do."

"I would," Stiles nodded, shifting awkwardly in his seat and sliding down a little. "I would appreciate that a lot, actually, because I'd rather that you _not_ get arrested and that my dad _not_ look at me like I had murdered a puppy or something. If we can avoid that, at all costs, that would be _great_."

Peter snorted, his gaze focused back on the road, but he felt Stiles' hand slide on top of his own and nudge it a bit further up his thigh. He didn't hesitate for a moment to slide his fingers further inward, gently teasing in a strange sort of apology. Stiles could be annoyed with him as much as he wanted, but there was always one thing that would bring him around again.

"I have forty-five minutes and counting," Stiles said, reaching down to flick open the button on his jeans.

"You're not afraid Scott will smell me on you?"

"I'm in your car," he shrugged, "he's going to smell you on me anyhow."

"There's the spirit," Peter purred, turning down a bumpy gravel road and towards the forest.

They didn't make it much further, not that they ever had, before Peter pulled just off the road and threw the car into park. His seat belt snapped free and he reached over to release Stiles' as well.

"Get in the back."

"Yes, sir!" Stiles replied, as enthusiastic as ever.

Maybe the concerns of before hadn't been eased away but the boy knew and opportunity when he saw it and wasn't about to pass it up. He ambled into the back seat, dropping onto his knees and squirming around, his legs dangling between the two front seats. As he shuffed his jeans down, Peter tugged them and his shoes off, leaving them in a rumpled pile in the passenger's seat. For his part, he actually managed to get out of the car, shrugging out of his jacket and pulling his shirt loose from where it had been tucked in. His belt dangled loose when he crawled into the back, and Stiles' hands went straight for the buttons down the front of his shirt.

For a moment they were a tangle of clothes and limbs, until Stiles got his underwear off and his teeshirt dragged over his head, Peter's pants around his thighs and his shirt hanging open across his shoulders. Stiles slid down and reached under the passenger's seat for the small canvas bag he knew lingered there, fingers hooking around the strap so he could free it. He tossed it at Peter, using the moment it took him to fumble out the necessary details to drape his legs around the man's hips. Every second had to be pushed as far as it could go, to save time for the part that really mattered.

While Peter's hands fumbled between them - with the condom, with the bottle of lube that had rolled somewhere between Peter's knee and the back of Stiles' thigh - Stiles dragged him down into a messy, breathless kiss. He felt Peter's hands stall as he growled against Stiles' mouth and dragged his teeth against the boy's bottom lip, but only as long as it took for him to brace a hand on the door behind Stiles' head and slide the other between his legs.

Stiles huffed into the kiss, squirming down on Peter's fingers and dragging his body closer with his heels. "Fuck," he whined between kisses, "hurry up."

He felt Peter chuckle and trail away from his mouth, rough stubble sliding against his skin as biting kisses wound their way up his throat and towards his head. "Shh," Peter whispered softly, "patience. It'll be worth it."

Stiles tossed his head back against the seat, burying another muffled moan in the upholstery until he heard the tear of a wrapper and Peter's fingers slipped out of him. But nothing came next, not the hard press he'd been waiting for. Instead Peter grabbed him by the back of the neck hauled him up, his other hand at the back of Stiles' thigh to draw him over and onto his lap as he settled down on the seat. Stiles felt the knot in his gut lurch deeper and he tangled his hands in Peter's hair as the man lined up beneath him.

It was absolutely shameful how loud he moaned as he slid down, and he needed a moment just for his brain to start communicating with his body again once he was settled. Peter watched him, eyes half-lidded, with amusement, only broken the moment Stiles curiously rolled his hips. Peter sucked in a sharp breath, teeth bared, and dug his fingertips into the back of Stiles' thighs, coaxing him further, settling him into the rhythm that he wanted. Something in the back of his mind warned Stiles that this had the potential to be embarrassingly short-lived, but he couldn't be bothered to care. It was the first time he and Peter had done this, face to face like this, where he felt like he had more than just a token amount of control.

But Peter gave as well as he ever had; Stiles could feel the muscles in his thighs as they tensed with a barely-restrained power, nails digging into his skin, breath hot against the curve of his collarbone. Every time the vague thought of how much time they had left started to creep into his mind, Peter thrust up a little harder, and all Stiles could think about was how overwhelming the feeling of being pressed into this unforgivingly tight space made him feel like every nerve in his body was alight.

Afterwards he watched Peter dress with an exhausted kind of charm, still laid out and half-dressed across the back seat. The steady change of the radio clock barely bothered him, though he knew if he _didn't_ get back on time Scott would automatically jump to the most horrifically bloody conclusion. Still, it was easy to lie there and watch while Peter put himself together again - just moments ago sweaty and mussed and now carefully sliding his hair perfectly back into place. He tossed Stiles' jeans at him and waited until he got them on before crouching down at the open door and sliding shoes onto Stiles' feet as they dangled there in front of him. He offered a hand, nudged the door closed with his hip, and waited until Stiles had gotten back in the passenger's seat before he climbed in as well.

As they made their way back towards the main road, the two merely sat in easy silence, until Peter reached over and flipped open the glovebox.

A grin stretched across Stiles' face as he saw the brown paper bag inside. "I'm sure this won't help your case any," he said - getting only a brief chuckle as reply - as he pulled the bag out and nudged the glove box closed with his knee. He'd know this bag anywhere, and what it contained as well. Stiles sighed in contentment as he pulled the contents out of the bag: obscenely over-fried curly fries and a bacon cheeseburger loaded with everything. He devoured it with all the enthusiasm of a teenage boy, finishing just as they pulled up in front of the school.

Stiles quickly leaned across the front seat for a kiss, laughing as Peter wiped the residual taste of fast food from his lips and shook his head.

"I'll see you tonight."

"I'm counting on it," Peter purred. "I want to be able to take my time, after all. Now shoo."

Stiles put on his best annoyed face and grabbed his bag from between his feet, sliding out and slamming the door behind him. He gave the most dramatic face of derision that he had as he spotted Scott and Isaac rounding the other side of the building from the parking lot.

"So," Isaac asked holding the door open, "what did he want."

Stiles shrugged, "He wanted to talk about Derek, what else? He thought I could be bribed with fries."

Scott laughed, "You _can_ be bribed with fries, though - I've done it. My mom has done it."

"Yeah, well…" Stiles waved dismissively, " _he_ doesn't need to know that."

"You took the fries, didn't you?" Isaac asked.

"Of course, do I look like I'm going to miss lunch for that?"


End file.
